


Cowardice

by Arisprite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Discussion of feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Likely canon divergent now, M/M, Nah actually fits between Ep 5 and 6, Poor Yuri, Post-ep to Episode 5, Russian's anti gay laws, aaaaaaannggst, and then just hurt, but that Victor does know Japanese, cw: very slight mention of trouble eating, headcanons, musings, slight homophobia discussion, the assumption that Victor and Yuri mostly communicate in English, the author's interpretations of Victor's character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: Victor was still after Yuri finished his speech on the television. But inside, his heart was racing. With excitement quickly tamped down, and fear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing after this latest episode. Victor continues to be so intriguing to me, and while I know he doesn't seem to care too much about being perceived as LGBT, it has to be in his mind somewhere, with the way it is in his home country. 
> 
> I did some very surface research on Russia's anti-gay laws, and what is and isn't' allowed, and what the general attitude is. I got a lot of stuff from 2013/2014, but not much too recently. If I'm incorrect, or offensive in any way, I deeply apologize. 
> 
> Also, Victor's thoughts are just one interpretation. I look forward to the day when we know a little more about the guy. Cause, while I don't know about all the theories that float around about him, man he's got to be hiding something.

Victor held himself very still, as Yuri finished his little speech, blithely grinning like he hadn’t just said what he did. The audience, both on the television screen, and here in the room beside him, were obviously taken aback, but Yuri just waved.

There were some nervous twitterings, and stutters as the broadcasters got it back on track, but Victor still hadn’t moved.

After all, it wasn’t every day that someone declared their love over live national television. Or, well, maybe they did, but it wasn’t every day that a man did that for another man, especially ones with the fame that Yuri and he had.

Twitter, Instagram and everywhere else was probably already ablaze.

Beside him, Minako was complaining about Yuri’s phrasing regarding her and the rest of the family. But Victor had been separated from them, put on a pedestal and yet, not. No one else had spoken yet. Victor had to say something.

He muttered something inane about Yuri’s necktie and pretended he couldn’t understand clearly. After all, Yuri had spoken in Japanese to the press, and usually, they communicated in English. He could pretend. He could smile, and squeeze Makkachin, and let this pass by, like so many of the other moments and feelings that had been growing between them. Let them just be cultural differences, a language barrier, and his flirty, ridiculous persona. Please, let them just stay that.

Deep down, Victor knew that was impossible, even before Yuri had spoken.

Victor didn’t know about Yuri, but the attraction on his side had always been evident. Yuri was beautiful, and passionate, and curious, and Victor had been drawn to both his dancing and the man himself the moment he saw the video. He’d said as much to his face. Touched him. Yuri always reacted the same way; a hilarious overreaction, with blushing and stuttering and scooting away in a panic. It was entertaining. That was all.

Except when it wasn’t. Except when Yuri didn’t respond that predictably, and Victor’s heart gave little half beats in surprise. When frisson rushed across his skin, at the enticement Yuri could summon.

That first Eros performance came to mind.

Still, their coach/student relationship, their friendship was growing nicely, and Victor had been so proud to see Yuri dance like he had today, to reach out (painfully, briefly) to that young skater, to blow off his advice and thrive with his own decisions.

And then, Victor had gone home, because the skaters always attended the press conferences without their coaches, and Yuri had pressed his costume bag into Victor’s hands to safe keep, without breaking eye contact. Odd for him.

“Yuri?” he asked, not frowning, but confused. And intrigued, by the way his heart thudded once before turning back to its normal beat.

“Watch me,” he said, reminding Victor of that moment before he skated on the ice, and enthralled the whole arena. “Watch the press conference, alright, Victor?”

Victor, unsure, had done what he always did when he was unsure. Smiled merrily.

“Of course, Yuri. Don’t say anything too embarrassing! Japan is watching.”

Yuri, a light blush dusting his cheeks, nodded. “I know.” A pause. “I know.”

Victor had gone back to the onsen, bathed and eaten, before family and friends gathered to hear Yuri speak. Now they didn’t know what to think.

Victor felt the eyes start to turn to him. Perhaps for an explanation. Perhaps they didn’t think he quite understood, the way that silly smile was still plastered on his face. Perhaps they were already blaming him for leading Yuri on, or corrupting him, or leading him to hell, depending on their views. Perhaps they already had suspected, and now just wanted him to confirm. Victor resisted the urge to bury his face in Makkachin’s fur.

“Alright, Yuri’s off now, and I for one don’t want to sit through all the other skater’s life stories,” Minako declared loudly, breaking up the silence, and drawing the eyes from Victor. She turned to Yuri’s father. “Bring out the sake!”

Yuri’s mother tittered. “You drink too much, Minako-sensei!”

The crowd laughed, and stood, clearing out or settling in to join in the drinking. Yuri wouldn’t be coming home for ages because he’d have to sit through the other skater’s speeches. Victor waited an appropriate amount of time, laughing and sipping at a glass of rice wine, before rising and retiring to his room.

He lolled back on the bed, cuddling Makkachin to his chest, wondering what on earth to do. Then, there was a slight knock on the door.

Victor sat up, wondering if it was Yuri. “Come in,” he called, and then the willowy form of Minako slipped into the doorway.

“Oh, Minako,” he said in surprise, sitting up straighter. “Come in.”

“Hey Victor,” she said, her voice flat and, surprisingly, sober. “You got all that on the tv, right?”

Victor chuckled. “Our Yuri sure knows how to captivate an audience,” he said, his smile small, and then falling.

Minako was watching him closely. “And what do you think of it?”

“He’s very passionate. About ska-”

“About you.” Minako’s voice was blunt. “Honestly, always has been, since he was twelve years old, and watching you win for the first time.” Her lips twisted into a smile. “With that damn ponytail. Why’d you cut it off, by the way?”

Victor was grateful for the lighter moment. “Ah, I grew out of the look, shall we say.”

Minako chuckled. “Those shoulders came in, is what you mean. Anyway, what I mean is… it’s obvious how he feels about you. And now the nation knows it too. And I want to make sure that you know it as well.”

Victor took a breath. “I understood his words,” Victor said, hugging his dog tighter. “What he meant by it, I do not know quite yet.”

“Well, definitely talk to him. You guys work well together. I’d hate to see you lose what you’ve got.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. This was not how he thought this conversation would go.

“And what is it, that we’ve got, do you think?”

Minako raised an eyebrow, folding her arms and cocking a hip.

“Victor, please. Anyone with eyes could see how you are together. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it? If you haven’t, you’re straighter than I thought.”

Victor felt his chest squeeze, just a little, and he forced out a chuckle.

“And what about Yuri.”

Minako shrugged. “I don’t think it matters to him one bit. I mean, he just confessed over live television, so.”

Victor hummed, looking away. “He didn’t think about the repercussions.”

“Well, I don’t think it will earn him many new fans, but he’s well liked, so-”

“That’s not what I mean. A speech like that in my home country could be enough to get him arrested. Or at least put him in danger of retaliation.”

Minako was quiet, watching him. Victor sighed.

“It’s not that being gay is illegal, not really. But ‘propaganda’... anything, or anyone supporting it, especially if they have a presence with children…” Victor pressed his fingers into Makkachin’s fur. Figure skating is very popular with the young. It would be enough to lose me my country’s support. I’m given some leeway: I have a persona that I’ve carefully constructed, and it allows me to push boundaries. But still. You’ll notice I’m still careful, with what I post. Even if it’s in another country.”

“So, you’re worried about your career?” Minako asked, a harsh note of judgment in her voice, though the rest of sympathetic. Victor shook his head. It wasn’t his career. His career was almost over, he’d survive. But Yuri, who was just starting to flower, he didn’t deserve to get dragged through the mud that being associated with Victor, and such a revelation would certainly bring in the world of figure skating, especially in Russia, where he was competing soon.

“Well,” Minako said, humphing. “I don’t know much about Russian politics, but I know one thing from years of ballet. Talent trumps almost everything. And if you love him, like he loves you… then you both deserve to be happy. The rest of the world can screw itself if it objects, but if it doesn’t, it’ll see Yuri dancing like he did tonight on the world stage. Because I don’t know about you, but I have never seen someone’s skill level jump so quickly as Yuri’s has under your coaching. He’s never skated like this before. So don’t you dare mess this up because you’re scared.”

Victor stared at her, startled and (to be quite honest) terrified. She nodded once, and then spun on her heel, with her usual grace, and left the room. Then, the door clicked open once more.

“Don’t hurt him, Victor. But also, don’t hurt yourself.”

Then, her footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

Victor lay back on the covers again and squeezed Makkachin until she squirmed, and licked his face.

Yuri returned late. Victor knew the moment he came in the door because the crowd in the front room abruptly grew louder, more cheery. Victor was surprised they were all still there.

He hadn’t emerged, even though some wine (or something stronger) sounded wonderful just then. He was too busy going over his and Yuri’s interactions; the flirting, the touches, the wonderful words that had been said between them… and wondering how it had come to this.

It’s not like he hadn’t... found companionship before. He was a man with needs, and such things could be found with smiling men in private venues, brought home and then paid off for their secrecy. The women were easier and were how he’d gained his reputation as a playboy. It was in part a shield and part a truth. He’d never let anyone so close as Yuri had wormed. And here was Yuri, a man with nearly as much publicity as himself, in the same field, declaring to anyone who listened… that he loved him. Or felt a love for him.

The feelings Yuri talked about were love, but not romantic. Not _just_ romantic? Not _only_ romantic. Victor didn’t know. Didn’t have enough of a grasp of Japanese to fully get the nuances. But Minako’s conversation had seemed to confirm it well enough.

Yuri would come thundering back here, with that adorably determined face on, and ask if he watched. Ask if he understood. And Victor had no idea what he’d say.

Sure enough, firm footfalls announced a visitor just before there was a knock.

“Victor?” called Yuri, sliding the door open with that same confidence he’d seen earlier. No hesitation, to enter Victor’s space. It was single-minded, and selfish in its focus. Victor had awaked Eros too well in dear Yuri.

Victor lifted his face from Makkachin’s fur, blinked blearily, and smacking his lips.

“Ah, Yuri, you’re back already,” he said, moving like his body was heavy. “Did you speak already?”

Yuri’s confidence melted away, as his words sunk in, and it broke Victor’s heart.

“Did you not watch the press conference?” he asked, his voice growing meeker. Victor yawned, and stretched, not attempting to make himself desirable like he might have. Slump the shoulders, keep the robe closed. He got up to walk towards his dresser.

“Ah, sorry! I must have dozed off after my bath. I’ll have to find a recording. Did you dazzle them?”

Yuri, small again, nodded and shrugged. “I suppose so…”

Walking behind the divider, Victor changed into some pajamas.

“You did well today, Yuri. Tomorrow, we’ll go over the routine, and work on some items I took note of. Not the jumps though. I told you to wait on those for a reason, and next time you won’t be able to get by on just performance points~” he said, coming out with his robe tied firmly. Yuri stood in the center of his room, a blush on his cheeks, but the confidence he’d seen nowhere to be found.

Soon, he’d mention to his parents or Minako that Victor has missed it. They’d reveal that Victor had lied, but the damage tonight had been done. Victor had clawed out a little more time. Time he could be “just Victor”, just a coach. Not love.

“Well, it’s been a long day, Yuri. Why don’t you head to bed? Practice is early tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Yuri said, and turned, tiredness winning out over his obvious disappointment. Victor breathed a sigh of relief. Now if only he could hammer out his own heartbreak, then everything would work out.

He was such a coward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor takes care of Yuri's injury and a confession is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright you guys, I have _never_ gotten such an amazing response to a fic! That and some great ideas for continuations, plus just not being ready to let these two go yet... here's chapter 2. I don't know how long this will be, but I'm going out of town tomorrow, so I'll probably update next week. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here too, so if you have ideas/suggestions leave them in the comments :) 
> 
> Love you guys! Sorry, this is still angsty...

Victor had been grateful many times that Yuko had given him a key to the rink. It meant that there was no one to notice him arriving to skate slightly earlier than the sun. He’d laced up, and skated hard, so much so that he was still panting a little, sweaty and trembling now, at his and Yuri’s normal meeting time.

 

He’d pondered a few things while he skated but come to no real conclusions. After all, as he’d insinuated last night to Minako - it really wasn’t his own career that he was worried about. If Yuri’s progress was threatened by unruly feelings on either of their parts, then Victor would do anything he could to put an end to that, to protect him. 

 

Victor stretched and sighed, wondering what Yacov would say to see him becoming such a sap? He’d called him the most selfish man alive but look at Victor now. It didn’t really make it feel any better. 

 

At nine on the dot, Yuri rushed into the rink and stepped out onto the ice. Victor got a glimpse of purple bruising, before smiling and clucking his tongue. 

 

“Oh, Yuri,” Victor said the next morning, in fond exasperation. “Did you not put anything on your nose?” 

 

Yuri skated up to him, missing his glasses, and wincing in embarrassment and probably a not insubstantial amount of pain, before rubbing the back of his hair. His poor face hadn’t been too bad last night after the bloody nose had stopped. A little red, but such was the norm. Now, though...

 

“Ah, sorry, Victor. I just went to bed. Is it bad?” 

 

Victor smiled, and came a little closer, reaching out to lightly graze the side of the bruise, right under his eye. The bridge of his nose wasn’t too swollen, and wasn’t twisted, which reassured Victor that he hadn’t completely broken his nose. But blood had pooled under his eyes, and the swelling was very noticeable. Yuri flinched back at his touch, like he hardly did nowadays, hissing in pain. 

 

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t schedule any photo ops for the next week.” 

 

“Week? Victor, what’s it look like?” Yuri put his hands up to his face, gingerly prodding. Evidently, he’d rushed here this morning, and forgotten to look in a mirror. It was a typical routine on the occasional mornings that Victor came to the rink early. His sleep wasn’t what it used to be, and stress could send him out of bed in the wee hours. Victor moved his light touch to Yuri’s chin, tilting his head up to see it better in the light, ignoring Yuri’s winces. 

 

“It might be good to get an Xray done, just to be sure you didn’t crack anything. How badly does it hurt?”

 

Yuri’s eyes were definitely pained, but he was also determined to practice - he usually was. 

 

“I’m fine, Victor. I’m sure it’s not that bad.” 

 

Victor shook his head, removing his hands from Yuri’s face, and turning him around by the shoulders, pushing him towards the entrance to the ice. Yuri needed caring for, so practice (and all the thoughts of last night) would have to wait. 

 

“Come, my little raccoon, it’s time you put some very belated ice on that nose. You know, you should have put some on it last night. It doesn’t do to bang up your pretty face, and then not take care of it. What would the press think?” Victor made his voice firm, but more and more Yuri was disregarding his advice. Victor was both proud and annoyed. He wondered if this was how Yakov had felt with him all those years. 

 

Then again, looking at Yuri blush slightly at his compliment, Victor thought that probably, Yakov's chest hadn’t jumped a little at the warmth between them when they touched. 

 

In the back of the rink was a small staff room that had mostly been taken over by the triplets’ posters and various leavings. Victor sat Yuri down on the chair, having fully ignored the protests that he could walk just fine, before moving towards the freezer and pulling out one of emergency ice packs that had been nestled inside. He wrapped it in a paper towel, and sat down across from Yuri. 

 

“Okay, hold still,” Victor said, pressing the ice against Yuri’s face. The ice needed to go right on his nose, so only Yuri’s brown eyes peeped out over the top of the paper towel. Yuri squirmed a little. 

 

“Victor, I can-” he put his hand up, covering Victor’s over the ice, and god help Victor, but he jumped. Nearly dropped the ice on Yuri’s lap, in startlement. It wasn’t even skin touching him, since Yuri was wearing gloves, but it was enough. The thoughts of last night were as strong as ever. Yuri, standing in front of the whole of Japan on live television and admitting that he loved this Russian man who had come to be his coach. 

 

Yuri caught the ice, and then peered at him in confusion. “Are you alright, Victor?” 

 

Victor smiled widely, forcing up a chuckle. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I be? You won first yesterday, remember?” Victor poked his shoulder a little, and even that touch was warm and magnetic. He forced himself backward, leaning back in the chair so that the two feet lifted off the ground. “If fact, if I’m correct, you didn’t even get to eat any tonkatsu, so we’ll have to have some when we get home-” 

 

“Victor,” Yuri lowered the ice, truly looking awful with his black eyes, and swollen nose, and yet still looking as lovely as ever. “Can you answer something for me?” 

 

Victor hummed. “Keep that ice on your nose, Yuriii~!” 

 

“Victor,” Yuri said, sounding unaccountably serious. It set Victor’s heart pounding. “Please.” Yuri set the ice down, his fingers reached out, stripping off the gloves and across the short distance between them, to hold one of Victor’s hands between his two. “Listen.” 

 

Victor squirmed, he couldn’t help it. He knew what this looked like, what the heat and desperation in Yuri’s eyes meant. And despite everything he told himself, he knew that it was excitement more than fear, than worry, that made his breath leave him. 

 

Yuri met his eyes, and Victor was entranced. 

 

“Did you really not watch the press conference yesterday?” he asked, and Victor gaped at him for a moment, before dragging up his typical smile (it felt so brittle). 

 

“I said I was sorry for that, Yuri. I’m sure I can find a recording online. I’ll bet you did splendidly-” 

 

Yuri’s face had tensed, a frown pulling down his features. 

 

“You’re lying,” he said, sounding sure and faintly disbelieving. “You did see it.” 

 

“Yuri, I-” 

 

“You saw it all. That’s why you’re acting so weird.” 

 

Victor could say nothing for a moment, and Yuri swallowed, still holding his hand between his two. He squeezed, and looked at him again. 

 

“Did you understand?” 

 

There was a long moment, stretched out and awkward like things hadn’t been in ages. He’d been here, a fixture in Yuri’s life for five months, after all. Victor didn’t breathe. Yuri took enough for both of them, heaving in a breath, and then letting the words spill out. 

 

“I said I loved you, Victor. I love you.” 

 

Those words… ah, they were so heartfelt, so young and warm and full of life and longing and desperation. So hopeful, and naive, said in a world where it was safe to say it. That was not the world that Victor dwelled in. And yet, he couldn’t refuse. 

 

“... and I you, Yuri.” 

 

Yuri caught his breath, and his rising joy was like a sun break. Why, oh why did he have to put out such light? Why couldn’t he just have this one thing, this man that had appeared in his life, and changed everything? Victor couldn’t smile back at Yuri, if he did, he was sure he’d break in half. 

 

Yuri was catching on to his lack of celebration. After all, that was what usually came in these sorts of moments. A mutual love turns into a joyous release, a kiss, an embrace. Victor could do none of those things. His happiness was fading into concern. Victor stood, pulling away and turning sideways to look at the wall. He spoke before Yuri could ask. 

 

“That doesn’t mean anything can change,” he said, voice far too flat. Yuri stood as well, tension of a different sort thrumming through him now. 

 

“Why not?” he demanded to know. Ah, Yuri…

 

Victor turned to face him, raising a painful smile on his face once more. Before saying the words he knew could at least get this back to their usual, though it would surely be awkward between them. Perhaps Yuri wouldn’t even want him to continue on, but at least Yuri would still be able to skate. 

 

“Dear, Yuri,” he said, and if he was closer he’d lift a hand to brush back some of those unruly black bangs. “I awakened Eros too well in you.” 

 

Yuri watched him, confusion edging to hurt as he spoke. 

 

“Those feelings you feel for me are simply lust. Your love is purely physical, like the Eros I asked you for. And Eros is the most ephemeral of loves - it quickly fades with time and circumstance.” 

 

Yuri was shaking his head. “No, Victor. No, that’s not true.” 

 

But Victor played it up. “It is. It’s alright, but it won’t go any further than this.” 

 

Yuri took a few steps closer, right into his space, and Victor had nowhere to go. Yuri looked wild, desperate, and pained. 

 

“That’s not what it’s like, Victor! I love you for so many things. Because of your kindness, your generosity, because of the way you make me look up and see the world around me! The way you make me better. I love you for all those reasons. Why can’t you see that?” 

 

Victor stared at him, hurting, touched and wounded by Yuri’s words. No one had ever said anything like that before, but … no, no, this couldn’t be.

 

Victor saw a tiny something shift in Yuri’s eyes, before he leaned in, and pressed his lips to Victor’s in a hard, urgent kiss. 

 

Victor knew that that kiss would haunt him the rest of his life. 

 

It lasted a long moment before Yuri pulled back, and Victor nearly wept to see how well he could read Yuri’s expressions: surprise at himself, fear that Victor would still reject him, a lingering daze at just how moving it was to kiss someone you loved. Victor was feeling the same. 

 

Victor breathed and said nothing for a long moment. 

 

“Well,” he spoke finally, trying hard to make sure his voice didn’t crack or wobbly like it wanted to. “Now that that’s out of your system, I want you to put that ice back on your face, Yuri. You’re never going to get rid of those black eyes at this rate.” 

 

Victor stepped away from the wall he’d nearly been pressed against, straightening his shirt (though it hadn’t gotten rumpled hardly at all; Yuri was a perfect gentleman) and wiping at his lips casually, like he felt some left over lip balm. 

 

“Once you’ve iced it for ten minutes, we’ll take a look at the swelling, and then I decide if we go to a doctor’s office. I want to be sure you don’t have any bruising when we go to compete in China. And then, depending on what the doctor says, we’ll see about skating today, so go ahead and put your shoes back on.” 

 

Yuri was gaping at him, betrayal in his eyes. Victor wanted to explain further, to reassure him, however little comfort it might bring, that this was killing him too. But it was better in the long run, wasn’t it? Let Yuri get his feelings out, and pass them by. They’d fade in time, and he’d be fine. They both would be. 

 

Yuri picked up the ice in a daze, looking just as heartbroken as Victor felt, and abruptly Victor couldn’t stay there anymore. 

 

“I’ll be just outside. Remember, ten minutes~!” he called, before he left the back room, and nearly ran back out to the ice. He had to move, had to dance, because otherwise he’d start thinking, and feelings, and hurting. Yet, even with the furious dance he threw himself into, tear drops spun off his cheeks to glisten on the ice in tiny droplets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! You are all so amazing! I'm sorry for the delay in getting this up, I was dying to write it, but I was at an all day conference out of town, so zero time (plus nano is still hanging over me, but I decided to not stress about whether I was writing for this or that). I loved many of your metas on the characters, and potential future decisions and emotions, and you'll see that I took much of that into account. Especially thank you to those who analyzed Yuri for me, as I was still unsure of where his character wanted to go. ForgottenAngerCourter, Erin Hassett, and tease, you guys are awesome!
> 
> So this fic is continuing, there will probably be a couple more chapters, but I'm also thinking of writing some happyfluffy in the meantime, since this has been an angstfest. Any suggestions? (I don't do smut...)

He left. 

Victor left Yuri behind, after saying he loved him back, and letting Yuri kiss him… all to just leave the room with his old smile. Like nothing had ever happened. 

Yuri clutched the ice pack, cold burning against his hand, as the door swung shut behind him. Between them. Victor left, and he didn’t look back - just like the playboy who cast aside the beautiful woman. The story he’d foolishly imagined was coming true, just like he thought. 

No one told him the person left behind hurt this bad. 

Yuri pressed the ice to his chest, trying to hold back the tremblings, sinking into the chair at the table. Then, he carefully set the ice against his face, where he’d been told to put it. The shock of the cold seemed to set off the tears, and hot droplets began to roll down his face, warming the ice under his eyes just a little. Yuri’s breath caught once, twice, and then he put his face into his hands, and sobbed. The ice fell under the table with a wet slap of thawed plastic. 

How could he have thought that Victor would feel the same way? He didn’t, he couldn’t, even though he’d said he did. He was lying then, and lying now, even though he was always demanding honesty. Yuri gasped at the rush of anger that broke through the hurt, wincing at his fingers clenched in his hair, unsure what to do with it. 

He loved Victor. Yuri wanted to be with him always, to skate with him as his coach, to be his friend and mentor and even more. He wanted to kiss him again, even now. But that was obviously not what Victor wanted. 

How could he have been so wrong? He was so embarrassed… 

“Eep!” came a little squeak, and Yuri sniffed, looking up to see Yuko standing at the door, with wide eyes and her fingers over her mouth. She grew more alarmed as he raised his head, and the inflamed pressure of the swelling, and pulse of the bruise reminded him of what he must have looked like right then. He winced and hid his face again. 

“Yuri-kun, what in the world is the matter?” Yuko said, coming forward. Yuri wanted to shrink into the floor, to pull the table over himself and hide, so he never had to see another living soul again. He didn’t uncover his face, even though it must be obvious that he was still crying, his shoulders hitching in tiny jerks and gasps escaping his pressed closed lips. 

Yuko was a sympathetic soul, and probably was making that sad face at him. She sat down across from him, in the seat that Victor had vacated, and probably watched him. He didn’t look to see. 

“Your face doesn’t look too good,” she said, and Yuri jerked one shoulder, like a shrug. Who cares. The one person whose opinion on his face he’d been interested in had only shrugged it off, handing him ice and running. There was another long pause.

“Yuri-kun, are you alright?” she whispered, and he gasped wetly, before scrubbing his fingers into his eyes, hard. It hurt, with his bruises, but it was better than the sharp pain in his chest. He wiped away the moisture, and got a hold of himself. 

“Sorry,” he sniffed. Coughed. “I’m- I’m fine, Yuko-chan. I just… just need to put this ice on my face,” he tried to smile, and it probably was horrific, with tears and snot all down his face, and the black eyes that he hadn’t even looked at yet. “Will you excuse me?” 

Yuko nodded, looking unsure as she let him go. They were old friends, and he’d shared a lot with her, but he didn’t think he could share this. This shame that bubbled up inside him, making him feel sick, stomach swirling with blackened poison. He swallowed back the slime, and left Yuko there, heading for the restroom.

In the mirror, he finally saw the black eyes that had so startled everyone he’d seen today. Victor was right, they were pretty racoon-like. Yuri pressed on the bridge of his nose carefully, through the ache, searching for a deeper pain that might indicate a fracture. Then he sighed, he was probably fine, but he wouldn’t look normal for a while. 

Yuri gingerly washed his face, and hands, before heading back towards the kitchen to get a new ice pack. Yuko had gone, probably to do her duties for the rink. They were opening up a little later, as per their agreement with them. Though he and Victor usually skated before and after closing, he knew that Victor also paid them to rent out the rink for a couple hours a day, so they had as much skating practice as possible. It probably set the Nishigori’s back, though it seemed their general traffic was far lower than it was when they were children, and it was Yuko’s parents that were running it (they were now on a retirement tour of Europe, and returned periodically to see the grandkids). 

Yuri sighed as he held the ice to his nose, wishing he’d thought to grab a paper towel for the ice, as it was _cold_ , and trying not to think about… 

He still had to skate, that was the thing. A falling out with Victor couldn’t stop their agreement, right? He was still his coach. And Yuri _wanted_ to skate in the Grand Pre Finals. He wanted to win, and Victor did too. Yuri pushed down on the pain, stuffing it deeper inside. His theme was still love. He’d learned, and opened up and been refused, and that was the other side of that. Now he had heartbreak to skate about too… 

Ah, who knew it hurt so bad? 

Yuri pushed back more tears, and tried to straighten himself up, shivering a little from the cold of the ice.

Yuri knew that this couldn't keep him back. He had to skate, had to keep working, had to keep at least a professional relationship with Victor, but right now he didn't want to ever see him again. he was too embarrassed, to ashamed that he could have ever thought himself of an object that Victor could desire. How would he ever perform Eros again? Goodness, he didn't even want to think of Victor's exacting eyes on that performance. 

Of course, Victor chose that moment to reenter the room, breaking into the tension and bringing some that was entirely new and different. a new of entirely new. New tension. He poked his head into the staff room door, and smiled, like nothing had happened. 

"Yuri~! How's your black eyes? Do you need to go to the doctor, do you think?" he sang, nearly deafening him with the force that he put into it. Yuri winced, and pulled the ice pack away, and Victor looked at him once, and clapped. "Ah, good that looks much better. I think we should be able to skate today, don't you." 

"Sure," Yuri said, dropping the ice on the table, and standing up, gliding by Victor in the doorway, and heading straight to the rink. He was glad that Victor wouldn't make him go to the clinic. He needed to skate, needed to feel the burn of muscles and feel the cold wind rush past him. He needed to take refuge in his old love, to forget about his new one. 

Victor didn't try to stop him as he left, and walked to the rink on his skate blades, not even waiting for Victor to catch up. He really didn't care what Victor would assign him to do, he wanted to speed across the ice, to drill jumps and step sequences until his ice skates broke. 

Victor, wisely, didn't try to stop him until two hours later, when the children began coming in for their lessons, and they were required to vacate. They’d return to the rink later in the evening. Usually they used the gap time for choreography, or other exercises. This was usually just when they ran too, but today Yuri slipped out of his skates, wincing at the heat of forming blisters, and a twinge in one of his ankles. He hadn't been careful today. 

Victor watched him take his skates off, but with what face, Yuri couldn't tell. He didn't look over, until Victor cleared his throat, and then he only glanced at Victor's shoulder. 

"Yuri, I'm-" 

"Please, don't, Victor. I'm fine. I'm going to go running.” Yuri knew his voice was flat, and toneless. Victor was a blue out of the corner of his eye, long and white haired, leaning forward towards him. 

“I’ll go with you!” Victor said, injected false cheer into a tense voice. He reached out and Yuri flinched back, a gasp stuttering out. Victor stopped in surprise, hand held out, and there was a painful, frozen moment. 

Then, Yuri turned away, shaking his head, *as he pulled his jacket on, flipped the hood up, and jammed ear buds into his ears. 

“I don’t care where you go,” Yuri said, and found that in that moment, briefly, everything was numb. With loud beats blasting into his ears, it was true. He didn’t care. He couldn’t, and so wouldn’t. For now, that was enough. 

Victor had slumped, but Yuri didn’t look at him again. He stepped outside and ran. 

~

The next few days were hard, and Yuri knew that he was nowhere near the place he’d been before the … well, before Victor said no. At least, as far as his skating went. He knew he’d been stiff, he knew he’d been silent, and that his performances in practice were dead eyed. He didn’t know how to project the emotions he was feeling, and he didn’t want Victor to see how much he was hurting. Didn’t want him to feel bad, he supposed… 

Yuri knew that he was worrying his family, probably was worrying Victor, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't hungry, wasn't motivated to do anything but train. He just... he just needed some time to sort everything out. If he needed to do that in the darkened interior of his room, just hugging Makkachin and feeling horrible that he wished that she was a smaller dog so he wouldn't have to smell Victor on her fur... well, that was all his own business. 

Victor had been very professional since then, watching his skating with a keen eye and telling him exact notes. He didn't reach out to touch him, but if there were any accidental brushes, or steps too close, Victor moved away quickly, though Yuri never flinched back as much as he had that first time. Victor didn’t mention his lack of feeling, though. And Yuri never looked at his face long enough to see if he was noticing. Things were cold and painful between them, each day. 

Yet practice went on. 

Yuri also went back to spending hours at Minako’s studio. She helped him train, or watched him with a hawk’s eye. It was only a matter of time until she confronted him. 

Late at night, after a grueling ballet session, Minako plunked down a beer bottle in front of him as he took off the soft slippers he wore to dance. She had her own in her hand, and sitting crosslegged in front of him, she leaned forward and met his eyes. 

“So, did he reject you, or did you reject him?” she led with, and Yuri would have choked if he’d taken a sip yet. As it was, he just gulped down a mouthful, face growing a furious red he was sure. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, and then some of Minako’s words settled into his brain. “Wait, why would you think I would reject him?” That implied that Victor would be the one confessing…

Minako looked a little like she’d been caught at something, and took a sip of beer. 

“Well, I assumed that _someone_ got rejected, but it’s honestly hard to tell which one of you.” 

Yuri didn’t know what to think about that. He pouted and took another gulp of beer, and Minako patted him on the back, a little awkwardly. 

“It was you, huh?” she asked, and he ducked his head. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Minako chuckled. “There’s a lot of that going on.” Yuri blinked at her, and she shrugged. “I’ve been trying to pin down Victor for days, to find out what the hell happened. You were easier. So what the hell happened?” 

Yuri huffed. “What do you think happened? He said no, _obviously_ , and now things are awkward between us. It’s nothing that won’t blow over. I’m fine with being professional. You can keep out of it, Minako-sensei.” 

Yuri gulped more of his beer, feeling warm from blushing more than the alcohol. Minako looked troubled. 

“So if you confessed, properly this time, and not over a tv,” she jabbed him a little, “did he explain why he said no? I know he feels the same way, but he mentioned some things-” 

Yuri gaped at her. “What? You’ve talked with him about this?” 

Minako didn’t look ashamed. “I told you I wanted to pin him down to ask what happened. I was the one who told him to talk to you. I guess he didn’t take a single word of my advice.” She actually sounded angry now, with a bite between her words. She took a quick swallow of beer. 

Yuri was torn between dying to know what it was that Victor said, and wanting to drop it forever. There was no way that knowing Victor’s words would make what he felt better. It was only rubbing salt in a wound. Plus some lemon juice, and maybe a little alcohol, just for kicks. But then again, he might know some of Victor’s reasoning - the reasoning that he refused to spell out himself. Could it make that feeling of confused betrayal ease?

“What did he say before?” Yuri gasped, unable to talk himself out of it. Minako looked at him in sympathy. 

“It was after your press conference. He was really shaken by it, by what he could understand of it, anyway. I checked to make sure he got what I thought you meant, and he had.” Minako paused, and then twisted her lips. “I’m not going to feel bad telling you this, because I’ve known you longer, and I’m upset at him for not explaining. He mentioned the laws in Russia, that they’re very prejudiced in his country, and that him coming out could jeopardize his career and any that he’s associated with. He was very concerned with ‘dragging you through the mud’.” 

Yuri listened closely, clutching his fist to his chest. MInako turned to look at him more fully, brows turned up. 

“He really does care about you.” Minako looked at him, surety in her face. “And I’ve never seen you like you are with him.” 

Yuri felt a pang go through his chest. He turned away from Minako and pressed his hand more fully against his cracking heart, only recently resealed up with what felt like wet newspaper. It was too much to hear that it could be true, that Victor hadn't been cruelly lying the moment that he told him he loved him too, to hear that he cared. It hurt newfound wounds that hadn't had near enough time to heal, especially since he was, every day, subjected to the source of his agony. 

He choked a little, and put his head down in a bow. Then, when Minako went to put a hand on his shoulder, he lifted it, gritting his teeth. 

"Thank you for telling me that, Minako-sensei," he ground out, a new fire filling him, burning through all those places where the seeping hurts had been. Minako was looking at him now in confusion. 

“Yuri, what are you thinking?” 

Yuri got up, setting the half finished beer on the ground, before bowing. 

“Thank you for your advice,” he said, more formally, before slipping into his street shoes, and leaving. He needed to speak to Victor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this one! After the last episode came out, I got stuck feeling that the direction I was taking with this was so hopelessly out of character. Look at Victor, he so obviously doesn't care what anyone thinks, even with the pictures on snapchat, and the announcers making comments that they live together! So, I floundered on how to end this, or even resolve it, when it was starting to feel like Victor wouldn't ever get here in canon. 
> 
> And then I saw a post on tumblr (and I'm really sorry I don't remember whose it was, I didn't even know it was important until I was pondering it later!) that said that they wouldn't be surprised if Yuri and Victor had gotten together sometime between Episode 5 and 6 when this was set. And I had a moment of inspiration! So, as Victor's panic clears, he begins to see what an idiot he's been.

What had he done?

Everything had changed between them, and with Yuri’s skating, since he’d so harshly rejected him. Everyone could tell. Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki had been giving them both worried looks, and speaking quickly to each other in Japanese when Yuri was out of earshot. Victor made out his name, but they were going too fast more much else. 

Yuko and the Nishigori family looked on in worry (and in those triplets’ case, narrowed eyes of suspicion). 

Minako stalked his steps with fire in her eyes, and Victor did his very best to avoid her. 

And Yuri. Dear, poor Yuri was hurting. His skating had suffered a blow, and now though technically he was fine, there was nothing underneath. No emotion to stir the audience, or Victor’s heart. And on top of that, he barely looked at Victor anymore. 

It was completely unfair, and Victor hated himself for even thinking it, but his heart ached that Yuri would no longer meet his gaze. It was like they were right back to those flinching, shy days, except Yuri didn’t tremble in delight when he got near, or blush at his flirty ways. Now, he blankly moved back whenever Victor got too close to him, like he was a dirty dog that he didn’t mind, but still didn’t want to touch.

Yuri’s heartbreak was obvious, in the way he closed up completely. Spoke flatly. Blinked blandly when people spoke to him, and only responded to coaching directions from Victor himself. 

Victor’s heartbreak may have been obvious too, but he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he too was quiet, he too didn’t want to draw more attention to himself, or give anyone a reason to look at him. His chest ached, and his stomach churned, and he didn’t even want Mrs. Katsuki’s delicious meals, often retiring to his room to curl around Makkachin, who thankfully hadn’t abandoned him. He buried his cold face in her warm fur, and tightened his grasp around her shoulders. 

“What should I have done, Makkachin?” he whispered, in Russian. Her ears perked, hearing her name, and the familiar tongue. She licked him softly. He closed his eyes. “What could I have done differently?”

Victor tried to think. At the time, he’d thought he was protecting Yuri the best way he knew how. He believed that he was doing what would allow Yuri to keep skating, without the press coming down on him. But Yuri couldn’t skate like this, he was hurting too badly.

“Should we have just kept it a secret?” Victor murmured again, and Makkachin whined a little, probably at the pain in voice. That would have hurt Yuri too, wouldn’t it? Maybe? Or maybe he was just afraid of what would happen if anyone found out. If the wrong person snapped a photo. 

Another idea occurred to Victor, and he lifted a brow, snorting. “Maybe we should just flaunt it. That would show the Russian government.”  
Victor let the thought linger in his head for a moment. He’d always been so open about so much, letting his feelings flow out of him, even if he kept his specific past’s details close. Once he’d realized that his feelings for Yuri were more than his typical flirtings, it had been so hard to stop what had become an upward trajectory of closeness. Maybe they could just _not_ hide it? What was honestly the worst that would happen? The people in the Grand Pre Finals wouldn’t care - nothing about gay relationships, or relationships with coaches was against their rules. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to easily go home again, or his career as a skater in Russia would be sabotaged or slandered. Well, he still wasn’t sure he’d ever skate for his home country again anyway. Maybe Yuri’s reputation would be tainted by coming out, but he was well liked, and had plenty of fans. Plus, he was talented, and the numbers would show his quality. 

What if the swirling panic that came from realizing that the feelings on both sides ran much deeper than he’d ever anticipated had clouded his judgement? Perhaps, he’d been a massive idiot. 

Victor groaned, and rolled to squish Makkachin more fully, burying his whole face into her neck. 

“Ohhh, Makkachin, what am I going to do?” he mumbled. As if in response, she squirmed and twisted to look at the door, moments before a sharp rap sounded. Victor stiffened. Had Minako cornered him at last? 

“Yes?” he called, clearing his throat, and sitting up. Makkachin whined, and wiggled out of his arms, to go and sniff at the bottom of the door, before looking back at him, like ‘well, aren’t you going to get it?’ 

Victor smiled softly at her, before standing and bracing himself for the coming conversation. He pulled open the door to see… Yuri, standing stiffly at the door, and looking right at him. It sent a bolt of shock through Victor. His eyes were bright, and he looked so determined, like he had going out to dance Eros. 

“Y-Yuri?” he said, startled sounded, even to him. Yuri doesn’t notice, but just looked at him. 

“Victor, we need to talk,” he said, and Victor nodded despite himself. 

“Okay,” Victor replied. 

They went to the beach, where they’d been many times running, or to talk, or once to just play in the waves like children. Victor thought the walk might calm whatever fire seemed to be smoldering under Yuri’s surface, but he only seemed to get more agitated as they walk. Victor kept quiet, and focused his eyes on Makkachin, leading the way on the now familiar path. 

Once they reached the edge of the waves, where the sound drowned out background noise, and the sun was low in the sky, Yuri still hadn’t turned to him, so Victor thought he’d help. 

“You’re angry with me.” It was a statement. Victor knew it. He was angry with himself too. It was enough to get Yuri going, and Victor hoped he’d say everything on his mind. Victor certainly deserved it. 

“Yes, I am," he said. “I’m angry you made this decision for me, without telling me why. But I spoke to Minako-sensei, who _you_ spoke with a few days ago, and so now I think I’ve got the full picture.” Yuri’s voice was cold. Victor couldn’t help but smile, sadly.

“I imagine you do,” he said, and Yuri let out a breath. 

“I could argue that there are other out ice skaters in other countries, who skate in Russia no problem. Or that I’m not Russian, so there’s nothing they could do to me. I don’t need your protection, and I can make my own decisions. But I don’t think it’s really about that.” 

Victor held his breath, because Yuri was so icy calm. He gaze was so frigid it burned. 

“Don’t pretend you’re being selfless, when you’re only afraid for your own reputation, and your own career.” 

“Yuri-”

“No, Victor. Even coming here, coaching me, as always been about how you looked to the public. Benevolent Victor Nikivorov swooping down to save poor Yuri Katsuki from certain failure, making him win, making him a star, all to make his coach look good. To surprise people, like he’s always saying.” Yuri’s face twisted, but Victor couldn’t understand what it meant. “Falling in love was never part of the equation.” 

Victor, chest aching, tried again to interrupt, but Yuri shook his head, waving away his words. There were tears in his eyes. 

“Yur-”

“I suppose it was a surprise on both our parts, but I get it, Victor. I understand. We can’t be together like that. But you didn’t have to lie-” 

“Yuri!” Victor nearly shouted, and then to his own surprise, felt tears choke him. He smiled, wet and painful, as Yuri fell silent and looked at him. Victor spoke, and knew that his voice would be raw, wobbly and too too real for anyone but Makkachin to hear. But Yuri deserved to hear it. “You’re right.” 

Yuri looked at him, biting his lip, uncertainty painful to see on his face. Victor took a breath, and heard it hitch in the middle.

“Yuri, you’ve struck to the heart of it,” Victor said, dropping his eyes to somewhere on Yuri’s shoulder. “I came here for selfish reasons, and I rejected you for the same. I never meant to…” here he looked up, and the movement let two tear drops fall down his cheeks. “I fell in love with you, Yuri. And suddenly, I was so afraid that all the progress we’d made would go out the window if the world knew.” 

“That wasn’t your decision to make.” 

“I know.” Victor breathed in. 

Yuri wiped his face. Straightened up, and looked hard again, if not so cold. “I want to skate. I would have kept skating if all of Russia came down on us, and I will keep skating even if we can never be together.” 

Victor was struck anew by the fact that this wonderful, amazing person was standing before him, and he’d had so little faith in his strength. He bowed his head. 

“I shouldn’t have doubted it. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart, that I hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?” 

Yuri sniffed. “Probably,” he said, “But I imagine you’ll have to work at it.” His face turned red and warm, and Victor had to laugh. 

“Well, there’s a relief,” he murmured. Makkachin, who’d spent their argument exploring the waves, decided to return at that moment, and nosed at Victor’s leg. She’d brought a stick, so Victor dropped to one knee to pick it up and throw it for her. She took off in a brown streak, and Victor straightened up to stand and watch her attempt to catch it in the surf, snapping at the water, and yelping at the cold. He stood beside Yuri, but the silence wasn’t heavy. Victor took a deep breath, and turned to look at him, watching out of the corner of his eye. 

Yuri was right, but not completely. Because it wasn’t a matter of selfish or selfless, Victor thought. He was both, at the same time, for wanting Yuri. But his old motivations, his old desires had seemed to be eclipsed by his desire to see this other person happy. It wasn’t something he’d ever experienced, and it was so strange compared to how he’d been six months ago. It was selfish to want Yuri for himself, to kiss and touch him, and to see his eyes alight for him and him alone. It was Eros. 

But it was selfless to want to give himself away completely, to be nobody at all aside from who Yuri wanted him to be. He wanted to be open and vulnerable, be honest as he never had. He wanted to give everything he had to Yuri and more. It was Agape. 

His fears were overshadowed. His country’s laws, and the ideas of the press didn’t matter. Not one bit. 

“Yuri,” he said, throwing the stick once more, his voice mild. Yuri turned to him, drained. He still looked sad, still looked hurt, as he gazed at him, and Victor wanted to take it all away. 

“What is it, Victor?” Yuri asked, and Victor realized he’d been staring. 

“I was wrong about something else,” he said, and Yuri smirked a little. 

“Is that so?” he asked, like he wanted to make a joke. Victor stepped a little closer, and the amusement fell away. He didn’t want to push, after all, Yuri had said he hadn’t forgiven him yet. But, he wanted to be clear. 

“Yuri. I don’t care what anyone else says. I don’t care if they gossip, or if I get in trouble. I love you, and I want to be with you. Will you think about it?” 

With a snap, Yuri’s eyes darted to meet his, his mouth open for a moment in a small ‘o’. And then the most brilliant smile rose up, which he too quickly covered with his hands. His brown eyes glittered as he beamed at him, frozen, before he spoke into his own hands. 

“I’m still mad at you,” he said, smiling with his eyes, and then Victor was yanked forward, and inexperienced lips hit his. Victor laughed into Yuri’s mouth, and softened the kiss, correcting the angle, before melting like he’d wanted to the first time. he tasted Yuri’s tears, but more than that, his happiness. Victor himself was almost overwhelmed too, with joy pulsing behind his chest. He had to break the kiss to laugh, and squeeze Yuri tightly. He closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead into Yuri’s. 

“I’m such an idiot,” he said, and Yuri laughed this time, holding him as tight as Victor was holding him. 

“At least you know.” 

“Stop me next time.” 

“I did,” Yuri said, huffing. “You made it difficult.” 

Victor leaned in and kissed Yuri’s cheek in a long press. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and as if in answer, Yuri tilted his head, and caught his lips again. He was a quick learner, and Victor was learning why people went weak at the knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented, kudos'ed and bookmarked this! You all made this so fun! And this is the end! I don't know if I'll write any more Yuri!!! on Ice fic, but we'll see where the muse takes me!


End file.
